


the dying of the day

by l_cloudy



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: First Time, M/M, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-22 23:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy
Summary: Supposing I had a few drinks and went into his room and told him the plain honest truth square in your face, Oliver: Oliver, I want you to take me.





	the dying of the day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linguamortua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/gifts).



I walked into Oliver’s room that night, emboldened by wine and the lightness of summer and the boldness of youth, and found him reading on the bed, my bed, where he lay every night. I hoped to lie with him in that bed, let him take my body as deeply and thoroughly as he seemed to have taken hold of my mind.

When I went in, I looked around, and the room seemed foreign to me, unlike the familiar haven I’d taken refuge in before Oliver arrived and turned my entire life upside down with his red bathing suit and his careless _laters!_ , and the shape of his naked feet against the grass of the garden. My hands were trembling. Oliver’s hand were holding a book, _Christ Stopped at Eboli_ , that I had quoted to him that very first day, feeling so grown up and so clever. The book slipped from his fingers as Oliver laid his eyes on me; he sat up on the bed and with the stern voice of an elder he said, “Elio.”

I said, “I like it when you call my name.”

What I meant was: I like when you acknowledge me, when you remember I exist, that I am here for you, waiting. I hate you when you go out at night, when you don’t look at me like I am the most important person in the room. But I want you, always.

“Elio,” he said, again, disapproving, but all I could think of was how my name would sound on his lips among the throes of passion, which I’d never experienced myself but I’d read widely about, and which sounded like something I would be interested in letting Oliver teach me. I was a quick study, and I opened my mouth to tell Oliver that, but he beat me to the punch.

“What do you think you’re doing,” he said, but his eyes followed me all the while as I strode through the room and went to sit on the bed. My bed, which Oliver had taken from me. My room. I could be in there if I wanted, I thought, capricious like a child. I could have any reason to come into this room and Oliver didn’t have to think I’d only been interested in sex, even though it wasn’t hard to guess that sex was why I was there. I’d made my interest very plain.

I wanted to say something sophisticated, adult and worldly. Instead, all I could manage was, “Please.”

“I want you,” I said. “Oliver. I want you. Every day, I can’t stand looking at you and not having you,” I said, and then, “Please,” and something twitched in Oliver’s face, thrill and indecision and naked human want.

“Elio,” he said, again, but it wasn’t a refusal this time. “Come here,” he said, instead, and I slid in closer over the bed, so that our legs were touching, our breaths mingling together. I was hard under my boxer shorts; Oliver was too, I could see it, and I wanted to put my hand on it and touch it, and knew that when I would take Oliver in hand I would find him stiff with want, and his cock cut, like my own.

Then I thought: was this not what I was here for? And so I reached out and put my hand on his _cazzo_ , his cock, the first one I’d ever touched, and I felt it twitch under my hand just as I felt Oliver gasp.

“ _Elio_.” I would never tire of this, hearing him call for me. It was a strangled sound, voice rough with arousal, and I found that I liked that. I liked it a lot. I stroked him over the cotton of his boxers, and then I dipped my hand inside and felt him there. It was smooth and warm, and the lack of a foreskin thrilled me even more than I thought it would. I circled my fingers around the circumference of it, pressed the pad of my thumb over a pulsating vein, and saw Oliver’s pretty lips part around a ragged breath.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” His voice, when he spoke, had regained almost all of his usual nonchalance, and I hated that. I gave a brisk stroke of my hand, pumping his cock, and Oliver’s hips bucked up almost of their own volition. I drank it all in, the sight of him like this, and found that I liked it perhaps more than I’d liked everything else about Oliver so far.

I did it again. Casually, just like Oliver always did, I spoke, “I don’t,” I said, truthfully. “I don’t know a thing. But I want you to teach me.”

I said it defiantly, like a brat. Oliver, for some reason, smiled. “I will,” he said, and then, “What else do you want?” He looked at me with kind eyes, open and true, and he’d never showed me this much regard in all the weeks I’d known him. And just like that, I felt it all spill out from me.

“I want you to take me,” I said. “Whatever you wish. I want you to make me yours, I want you to show me what’s like.” And then, pathetically, “Just for the night. We don’t – you can forget about me in the morning. I just want to know what it’s like.”

Oliver did not answer; he merely looked at me. He leaned in as if for a kiss, and I wanted it, desperately, but for some reason I found myself thinking that if I kissed Oliver that would be all we’d end up doing. I pulled back, knowing even as I did it that I would end up regretting it, but my stubborn self wouldn’t have it any other way. Kissing, I decided, was for the day. Nights were for forbidden pleasures.

“I’m not here for that,” I said, as if offended, and Oliver’s eyes turned hard, his lips wry and thin.

And then he said, “Turn around then. Lie on the bed.”

My heart felt as though it would beat away from my chest. Perhaps I should have been ashamed of how quickly I was to obey, but I couldn’t, not when I’d wanted it for so long. I eagerly kicked off my boxers, bared my body to the view, ready for Oliver’s perusal, and then I threw myself face down on the covers. This was my bed, and I was about to be deflowered on it. Oliver was going to fuck me, to take me like I’d desperately wanted him to since the first time I’d seen him.

All of this I thought. Instead, Oliver did nothing of the sort, did not grasp tight at my hips with those marvellous fingers, did not press down into my entrance to ready me for the taking. Instead I heard him shuffle close, felt his break ghost against my lower back. One of his large hands came lay on my ass, parting me there, exposing all of it to the view. Oliver said, “I’m going to teach you something tonight, Elio. Are you ready?”

I nodded, frantically, heart beating as loud as a rabbit’s. I thought I knew what was coming.

Instead, Oliver bent down, and I felt his tongue lick a wet stripe across the furled flesh of my hole.

It was – I hadn’t been expecting that. I made a keening noise into the covers that was half shock and half pleasure, and immediately Oliver’s hand came down to smack firmly over my ass, and the noise resounded impossibly loud in my childhood bedroom.

“Quiet,” he said, and I nodded furiously. The spanking had me out of my mind already, even more than the feeling of Oliver’s tongue had.

Then his mouth came against me again, pressing a soothing kiss right where he had just stung me, and I wanted to moan at that, the patronizing gentleness of it. Then he kissed me again, down and lower, all the way to my crack and across the length of it, circling my rim with that wonderful tongue. I breathed out against the covers, somehow already overwhelmed, just by this. Oliver licked there again, right across my entrance, and then he opened his lips and he sucked on it, as if it were a lip, or a nipple and I couldn’t – I wanted to sob. I felt cold air against my skin when he pulled back, and then I felt a drop of wetness and I realized it was spit; Oliver had spat on me, over my hole, to get me nice and wet, and for no other reason that he wanted to and I let him, just like I’d have let him do about anything.

I moaned, again, and Oliver smacked me, again, and the sudden thud of flesh hitting flesh was louder than my own noises had been, but I didn’t care. I wanted Oliver to do with me whatever he wished, to play my body like an instrument just like I played the piano day after day to impress him, to get him to look at me twice. The realization had me furiously humping the covers, and my cock was just as wet as my hole, slickened with pre-come and adolescent inexperience. I wasn’t going to last much at all, I knew it, and Oliver knew it too. He pressed a finger, slick and wet with spit, up against my balls.

“You’re getting close,” he said, and the implication was there: ready to come, just from this, I spanked you like a child and spat on your hole and you’re going to come from it, I didn’t even have to touch your cock. “Do that again,” Oliver said, and I didn’t know what he meant. I hesitated, and he hit my cheek again with his hand, a short slap, and it didn’t sting much at all, really, but I couldn’t help rocking up against it and back into the mattress, every jerk of my hips pulling me closer and closer to the edge.

“Good, Elio,” he said. “ _Molto bravo_. You did very well. Keep doing that.” And then he bent his head again and his tongue found my hole again, and I only needed the faintest touch of it before I came, shuddering, rubbing up against the covers like the inexperienced youth that I was. Oliver helped me through it, put his hands on my hips and kept mouthing at my hole until I was all spent, which didn’t take long at all, really. Then he turned me around, and I blinked – his handsome face came into view, and he was smiling, self-assured. A movie star, I thought, a bit stupidly.

“Elio,” he said, again. I would never tire of hearing him say that. “See. I told you you’d learn something.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [_Notte prima degli esami_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbeDreyMy3o), the anthem of Elio's generation. | I'm on [tumblr](https://liesmyth.tumblr.com).


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